


An Arrangement of Soulmates

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but not excessively so, older!charles, young!erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: King Charles III of House Xavier gazed at the painting of his betrothed. Strong jaw, wide, thin lipped yet sensual mouth, straight nose, high cheekbones, intense grey-green eyes, short auburn hair."Mooning over your child bride, Charles?"Raven."He's nineteen, hardly a child bride," snapped Charles."You're old enough to be his father.""Your recollection of my sexual prowess at the age of twelve is seriously flawed .""Oh, I don't know, as I recall you were precociously slutty."





	1. Chapter 1

King Charles III of House Xavier gazed at the painting of his betrothed. Strong jaw, wide, thin lipped yet sensual mouth, straight nose, high cheekbones, intense grey-green eyes, short auburn hair.

"Mooning over your child bride, Charles?"

Raven.

"He's nineteen, hardly a child bride," snapped Charles.

"You're old enough to be his father."

"Your recollection of my sexual prowess at the age of twelve is seriously flawed.”

"Oh, I don't know, as I recall you were precociously slutty."

King Charles III chased the Princess Raven round his dressing room and tickled her unmercifully once he caught her. As they lay on the chaise longue recovering their breath, she gave him a shrewd look.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am. Just naturally nervous about finally meeting my future husband."

"Not worried he'll hate you because we fought the Genoshans for three years?"

"Thank you for that."

"Not worried he'll be disappointed you don't match up to your portrait? After all, the court painter toned down your ginger beard and smoothed out your lumpy nose and missed off your freckles and made your lips less freakishly red and you can't tell how short you are from a painting."

Charles gave her a shove. She shrieked and almost fell off the chaise. Once she regained her balance she fixed him with a shrewd stare.

"Is this about your soulmark? It is, isn't it?"

Charles sighed.

"It's stupid, I know, but I've always dreamed of finding my omega soulmate. I'm well aware it's a ridiculous, childish dream and plenty of people don't find their soulmate and are perfectly happy. It's just . . . this wedding . . . it's . . . it's the end of that dream. I always knew I'd make an arranged marriage, so I don't know why I'm being so foolish about it. Anyway, what kind of a name is "Magneto" for a soulmate?"

Raven hugged him.

"It's a very nice name. Though if I were marrying an omega who looked like Erik of Genosha, I wouldn't be too bothered about my soulmate. Besides, you might still meet them. They could be your concubine."

"Raven, you're incorrigible and Prince Erik probably doesn't look any more like his portrait than I look like mine. No one could be as beautiful as that."

He wasn't as beautiful as his portrait. He was more beautiful.

Charles stood on the steps of the palace under a canopy of cloth of gold with Raven at his side and a multitude of courtiers flanking them. He was dressed in Xavier blue. The Genoshan procession, all in green and silver, the colours of House Lehnsherr, stopped at the bottom of the sweeping stone staircase. The prince, his Regent and his personal guard climbed up towards him.

A wave of heat surged through Charles. The prince was tall and slim, snake hipped, narrow waisted, broad shouldered and with a face that put his portrait to shame. And he smelt intoxicating. Citrus and spice and rain on a hot summer's day. He smelt better than any other omega Charles had ever scented. Better even than an omega in heat. Charles felt dizzy with arousal. He wanted to claim him, here and now, in front of everyone. He wanted to bite the nape of his neck and mark him as his. He wanted to cover him in his own alpha scent.

"Charles," hissed Raven.

Charles surfaced from his trance and spoke the words of greeting, while Prince Erik stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips and kept swaying towards him. Charles clasped his hand in welcome at the end of his speech. Erik's fingers were long and elegant and calloused. A current of pure lust shot from Charles' fingers to his groin. Prince Erik gasped.

Somehow Charles got through the welcome banquet, helped by Raven's prompting. He and Erik struggled to break eye contact. The Regent - Shaw, an alpha to whom Charles took an immediate dislike - had to keep reminding the prince to respond to the toasts and say his piece. Erik's voice was low and lovely.

Charles poured wine for Erik with his own hand. When he passed the goblet to the young prince, their fingertips touched and Charles felt that cock stiffening thrill again.

"Would you care for a peach, your Highness? They are from our own orchards and are particularly good this year," said Charles.

Prince Erik gazed at him through lowered, amber lashes.

"Thank you, your Majesty, I would."

Charles peeled and sliced the peach and offered a piece to Erik. The prince took hold of Charles' hand, lifted it to his mouth and delicately sucked the juicy piece of fruit from his fingers. Charles was afire, he was in agony, he was drowning in Erik's eyes and scent and touch.

"Your Highness," said Shaw, in an admonitory tone.

How dare he! How dare he speak to Charles' omega like that! Charles bared his teeth at Shaw and let out a blood curdling snarl. Shaw stared. Everyone stared. Raven kicked him under the table. Prince Erik's lips curved in a huge, toothy, shark-like grin.

After the banquet was over - and bidding Erik goodnight was one of the hardest things Charles had ever done - Raven said:

"I've never seen you like this. You're truly smitten."

"I've never felt like this. The instant I saw him, scented him, I was lost."

"He looked pretty far gone, too."

Charles flushed.

"Do you think so?"

Raven raised her eyebrows.

"No, Charles, I'm sure he was just being polite when he sucked that peach from your fingers. I nearly had the vapours."

He laughed.

"You've never had the vapours in all your born days, you hoyden, you. I must admit I thought I was going to spontaneously combust."

She grinned.

"Perhaps he'll turn out to be really stupid and your ardour will cool."

"Well, I'll have the chance to find out in the lead up to the wedding."

"You will. Goodnight, my brother and King."

"Goodnight, sister mine."

Lying in his huge bed he thought of Erik and nothing but Erik and brought himself off imagining slender, graceful fingers on his cock, green eyes gazing into his and white teeth bared in a too wide grin. He dragged his nails across his soulmark, which was as inflamed as his prick, and moaned, "Erik".


	2. Chapter 2

King Charles and Prince Erik met every day in the fortnight prior to the wedding. As was customary, they were attended by hordes of courtiers. Every time they met Charles was rendered speechless and stupid with possessive lust. Every time they met Erik leant towards him like a sapling in a high wind, "accidentally" touching Charles' fingers, or nudging his shoulder, or brushing his arm. Every night Charles jerked off frantically, picturing Erik in a variety of erotic poses.

Conversation was stilted at first, with Charles inquiring about such inspiring subjects as Erik's journey, the weather in Genosha as opposed to the Westchestrian climate and comparative farming practices. Erik gave monosyllabic answers.

The war was an obvious conversational no go area. Erik had fought in his country's wars from the age of sixteen. Charles was a seasoned campaigner; first as a guerrilla fighter against the usurper, Kurt Marko, then in the civil war against Kurt's son, Cain, and finally as a commander and participant, despite the pleas of his generals, in the war against Genosha.

A chance reference to chess changed everything. Conversation flowed as they discussed, and argued about, their preferred strategies. They adjourned to the library to use the ebony and whitewood set that had belonged to Charles' long dead father. It was a close fought game. Eric won. Charles had never been so happy to be beaten in his entire life. Admittedly, he had been distracted by Erik's habit of rolling the pieces between his long, tanned fingers. They played daily from then on. Honours were about even.

The conversational floodgates had opened. They talked about books (Erik favoured factual works, Charles preferred novels and poetry), the sciences (Erik was fascinated by metallurgy, Charles by the study of living things), the rights of omegas (in Westchester omegas had virtually the same rights as alphas, in Genosha they were very much second class citizens, except that they were expected to fight, which was rare in Westchester) and the lands they had travelled (Erik described the icy fastnesses of the north, Charles waxed lyrical on the tropical jungles of the south).

Erik was well on the way to beating him yet again, which would put him three games ahead, when Charles noticed him rubbing at a broad scar on the inside of his wrist.

"Old war wound?" he asked, forgetting the war was out of bounds.

"No," replied Erik, tone somber.

Charles was just about to apologise for asking when Erik continued:

"It's where my soulmark was."

The Genoshans were remarkable for removing children's soul marks as soon as they appeared. Soulmarks were considered a frivolous distraction from the serious art of waging war. Soulmarks encouraged people to waste time searching for their perfect mate when they could be usefully serving their country.

"When . . . when did you have it removed?"

"I was three."

"Did it hurt?"

"I don't remember. I don't remember what it said. It was a man's name, I know that."

"Do you regret losing it? I don't mean to offend. I know it is the way of your people and would not be the custom if they did not feel there was good reason for it. Forgive me, I express myself badly."

Erik smiled, not the fierce grin that ignited a fire in Charles' groin, but a soft, sad thing that stirred something painful in his chest.

"You express yourself well and I am not offended. I know we are the only people to remove our soulmarks. When I was young I thought nothing of it, it was the way things were. As I grew older, I was glad it was gone as I knew my marriage would be arranged and a soulmark might make it harder to accept. Recent events have made me wonder . . . oh . . . many things."

Recent events could only mean their impending marriage.

"I have my soulmark still and I swear I could not feel more strongly for my soulmate than I do for you," said Charles.

He took both Erik's hand's in his. His fingers were cool between Charles' heated palms. His scent intensified, the rain on green, growing things smell particularly strong.

"I have no soulmark, but I care not for I have you," Erik whispered, voice husky with need.

They were falling into each other, lips within inches of meeting, when a Genoshan courtier coughed meaningfully. It was the Regent, Shaw. Fucking bastard. They drew back and carried on playing, the match descending into a messy draw.

Their conversation was never so intimate again, but Charles repeated Erik's words in his head night and day.

"Stopped moping about your soulmate, have you?" teased Raven.

Charles blushed and told her loftily "you should have more respect for your King."

She blew a raspberry and sprinted off before he could retaliate.

The day of the wedding came at last. Charles was ritually bathed and dressed as was the custom. Erik would be going through the same ritual. Charles was clad in gold, Erik in silver. Only alphas and betas were permitted to attend to Charles and only omegas to Erik. Raven, as a beta and his nearest relative, despite being a half sister only and a bastard at that, had the duty of girdling him with his sword belt and placing the crown upon his head. She looked unusually serious as she did so, the solemnity of the event affecting even her high spirits. Neither Charles nor Erik would eat until the marriage feast.

Charles struggled to keep his temper. He should be meeting Erik in the library right now. They'd be playing chess and talking and Charles would gently tease his omega and Erik would pretend to be offended, then burst out laughing. Logic said he'd see Erik in just a few hours. His alpha nature curled his fingers into claws and put a growl in his throat at the delay. He managed not to swear at anyone or punch his attendants by saying as little as possible and practising breathing exercises.

He processed through the castle - which took hours, it was a bloody big castle - and then through the streets. The people cheered and threw flowers. There were a few boos and sullen faces because some of his subjects resented him marrying the Genoshan prince who'd waged war on their land. In most kingdoms the people would have been afraid of openly expressing their displeasure, but Charles had always been determined Westchester would be different. The vast majority seemed to be celebrating. Of course that might be because free food and drink had been laid on.

Erik would be making his way to the cathedral by another route. As an omega, he would be in a carriage, rather than on foot, and hidden from the gaze of the crowd, which was ridiculous as the public would be seeing him all the time once they were married. Something primitive in Charles rejoiced that his omega would be concealed from prying eyes. He'd arranged to have the Erik's route strewn with yellow rose petals, as his prince had mentioned in passing that he preferred them to the more traditional white.

Both processions arrived at the cathedral at the same time. Charles handed Erik down from the carriage. Erik's fingers were cold and trembled slightly. Charles gave them a reassuring squeeze. Erik squeezed back. He had strong grip. His scent - lemons, cloves, new mown hay - washed over Charles, hypnotic and entrancing. Erik was draped from head to toe in a fine silver veil. Once the massive cathedral doors had slammed shut behind them, Charles unveiled him.

"You are as beautiful as the moon," he whispered.

Erik smiled and whispered back, "You are as magnificent as the sun. Oh, and yellow roses, you remembered."

"I remember everything you say."

The Regent made a sort of "ahem" noise. God, Charles disliked the man, plus he was an alpha so shouldn't be anywhere near Charles' omega, but he was perfectly right, they were keeping three thousand people waiting.

Charles led Erik down the aisle. The huge, echoing space was brilliant with a thousand candles. Light streamed through the stained glass windows, painting the pale stonework in a myriad of jewel colours. The right hand side of the nave was hung with blue Xavier pennants, the left with Lehnsherr green and silver. Above the altar two great banners were joined in a complex knot, symbolising their union.

The priest began speaking of "the alpha taking into him the omega and the omega cleaving to the alpha." Charles didn't take in much of the service. Erik was too distracting.

He repeated the ancient words:

"I, Charles, rightful King of Westchester, Lord of House Xavier, take unto me Erik, anointed Prince of Genosha, Lord of House Lehnsherr, to be my omega. I pledge on my life and my crown to love, honour and protect him, forsaking all others, even into the end of our days."

Erik gazed at him with shining eyes.

"I, Erik, anointed Prince of Genosha, Lord of House Lehnsherr, give unto Charles, rightful King of Westchester, Lord of House Xavier, myself, as offering to my alpha. I pledge on my life and my crown to love, honour and obey him, forsaking all others, even unto the end of our days."

They exchanged rings, silver for Charles and gold for Erik, and drank from the cup of joining, Erik's fingers clasping the jewelled handles, Charles' hands atop Erik's.

"And now, your Majesty, your Royal Highness, you may exchange the kiss of binding."

Charles placed one hand on Erik's cheek and the other on the nape of his neck. The short hairs tickled his fingers. Erik's hands fastened on Charles' waist. Erik bent his head - he was half a head taller than Charles - and their lips met. Erik's lips were soft and warm. His scent intensified - he smelt like an orangery hung with drying spices - and Charles' scent - earthy, musky, smoky - mingled with it. Charles was on verge of slipping his tongue into Erik's welcoming mouth, when the priest cried:

"People of Westchester and Genosha, behold King Charles, the Third of His Name, and Prince Consort Erik, the First of His Name. Alpha and Omega, may they rule long and well under God's grace."

Charles disengaged and he and Erik turned to face their cheering people with dazed faces. Erik had tear tracks on his cheeks and it wasn't until Charles saw them that he realised his own face was wet.

They were married.


End file.
